


Outweigh Our Sorrows

by lielabell



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, M/M, Sherlock Loves John, The Reichenbach Fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hardest part isn’t having his named bandied about in the press or having every idiot in England thinking he’s a sham.  No, the hardest part is losing John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outweigh Our Sorrows

**Author's Note:**

> A millions and a half thanks to cymbalism219, nefariousginger, and nokomis305 for the hand-holding and beta. <3

The hardest part isn’t having his named bandied about in the press or having every idiot in England thinking he’s a sham. No, the hardest part is losing John.

Not that he’s lost John, god no. Sherlock’s got his eye on him at all times. John is, by far, the most watched person in London. His every moment is carefully tracked and reported back to Sherlock along with details ranging from what he had for breakfast to the fact that he recently switched brands of socks. So, yes, not lost at all really. Just... not able to interact with. Not able to hear his opinions on the news, predictable as they might have been, or listen to him go on about his “bloody awful” day or any of the pointless natterings John’s fond of.

John, with his tired, world weary eyes who goes about his life as if...

Sherlock closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and reminds himself that it is necessary. He examined all possible outcomes logically and made his choice based on the data, not on pointless emotions. A John walking around like he is gutted is better than a John not able to walk at all. A John dead and buried, the way Sherlock is meant to have been. So what if Sherlock can’t have him? He’s alive, isn’t he? And the not having him, well that can change, once this is over and done with.

That’s the plan, anyway. Who knows how it will actually play out. Yes, there is John’s loyalty to take into account, and the fact that John clearly valued what they had, their life together, and not just for the thrill of the chase either. But that doesn’t assure Sherlock the sort of welcome he’s, well, hoping for. Fretting over, if he’s honest. Because John, god, John. He means everything. Absolutely everything. And not being able to come home to him at the end of this... well that doesn’t bear thinking about.

Things will sort themselves out, Sherlock is sure of it. Yes, there will be anger and disbelief and hurt, but in the end John will understand. Sherlock will make him understand, damn it. Walk him through it the way he’s walked him through countless other things. _See John_ , he’ll say, _don’t you see? There was no other option. It was this or your death. And, no, I couldn’t let you in on the secret. No, I couldn’t pop round once the immediate danger was past. I had to see this through to the end. It was the only way, John. The only way._

Sherlock runs his fingers over the latest batch of photos, tracing the line of John’s body, ignoring the blonde on his arm. She won’t last long, not with the way John stands next to her, so stiff and formal, like he’s at attention, clearly unable to relax in her presence, never mind the way she’s smiling up at him, breasts pressed against his side. Sherlock gives it a month at best before that one’s rendered redundant in John’s life.

He flips through the stack slowly, watching as John makes his way from home to work and back again, makes his way in a world without Sherlock in it. His lips thin and he tosses the photos aside. Pointless. This is pointless. The work, that is what matters. That is what he should be focusing on. Pulling apart all of Moriarty’s little tricks and traps, removing every possible threat, destroying everything the man built so that none of it can come back to haunt him. Once that is done, he can go home, go back to John.

God, John.

Sherlock closes his eyes and lets himself sink into his memories of John. The way his eyes would light up during a case, the way he would look at Sherlock, like Sherlock was something marvelous, something to be treasured. The way his footsteps sounded coming up the stairs, steady and even, just like John himself. His woolly jumpers, his put upon sighs, the way he always let the tea seep the exact amount of time recommended on the box and not a second longer. _John._ Who is still alive, damn it, so why does the thought of him ache? John Watson is still alive. And doing well, by all accounts, which should make Sherlock happy. That was the point of this whole bloody mess, after all-- that Sherlock would be living in a world where John Watson is still able to shout abuse at chip and PIN machines and spend too much on take-away.

So what if Sherlock can see the tightness around his eyes, the way he hunches his shoulders as if expecting a blow. The man is coping. Doing therapy again, not that it will help him any more this go round than it did the last. He’s taking steps, moving on. Dating pushy blondes with no taste and a hint of desperation in their breezy smiles. Which is good. Very good. John deserves to be happy. That’s why Sherlock said what he said, that’s why he tried so hard to make John believe. Because it’s easier to lose someone you are disenchanted with. Someone who lied to you, manipulated you in the worst possible way.

Except John didn’t believe it, _doesn’t_ believe it, no matter how many times he gets “proof” of Sherlock’s “lies” shoved in his face by the harpies in the media. No, John stands firm, defending Sherlock’s honor through it all. Sherlock still doesn’t understand it, this need to protect him, but not understanding it doesn’t mean he is unaffected by it. That, though foolish and beneath him, Sherlock still takes it as given that as long as John steadfastly believes in him, things will work out right in the end.

Sherlock frowns and shakes his head. This is getting him no where. He made the choice he had to make. It's done, in the past. There is no way he can take it back now. All he can do is move forward, play this game out to the end. Dwelling on it won't do any good at all, will actually do harm, since it takes his attention off of the task at hand. Makes him doubt himself, which is the worst sin of all. Sherlock nods to himself, determined not to think about John, to focus instead on putting the pieces into place, on trail that’s getting colder with every moment that passes. John will keep, after all, staying safe in London, going about his life same as he always has. John will keep until the web that Moriarty built has been cleared away and Sherlock can come home to him again.

**Author's Note:**

> So clearly I watched The Reichenbach Fall and it shattered me and then I needed to write fix-it fic in which Sherlock has ALL THE FEELINGS. Um... forgive me?


End file.
